


Christmas Cake

by Obotligtnyfiken



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Cake, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21749197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obotligtnyfiken/pseuds/Obotligtnyfiken
Summary: The Most Embarrassing Breakup of All Time is threatening to ruin John's favourite seasonal treat. But then he comes home to Sherlock's Christmas cake.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 29





	Christmas Cake

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, thank you to my wonderful beta @wetislandinthenorthatlantic

John stomped up the stairs, shame still burning his cheeks. It was one thing to be dumped. That had happened too many times to count. Not being up to scratch in bed was worse, but well, not everyone were compatible sexually. He could live with that. Anyway, most of the girls mentioned Sherlock rather than his performance as the reason for the breakup and he couldn’t fault them. Cases with Sherlock was better than sex, there was no way around it. Even if he would never admit that aloud to anyone. 

But tonight, he had endured the most embarrassing breakup of his entire life.

He had been twenty minutes early and had gone to meet Susy in the pub outside her office. She’d mentioned she might go there for a drink with her co-workers before meeting him for dinner. As he walked in from the cold, there was a roar of laughter from the corner by the bar, and in midst of the noise, he had heard Susy’s bright voice. 

“No it’s true! First he talked about the Christmas cakes of his childhood all through dinner, and then he lay there petting me like I was a wrapped present he wasn’t supposed to open until Christmas morning.” 

Her friends had shrieked again, one of them slapping the table. 

“I tried to focus, you know, just get the job done so we could get to sleep? But the more he tried, the more I kept thinking about Christmas cake. In the end, I had to imagine eating one just so I could get off. Best orgasm of this relationship, let me tell you!”

“Oh my God, you were having sex with a fruit cake!” 

At this, they laughed so hard that one of them almost fell off the chair. Susy bent down to help her friend up, and as she did, she turned her head and caught sight of John. “Oh. John.”

John stomped harder on the creaking steps to erase the image of their horrified faces from his mind. He had turned around and left, expecting Susy to come after him. As he had walked through the door, he had shot a glance over his shoulder. Susy hadn’t been running after him, apologising. She had been looking down, shaking with repressed laughter, trying to keep her face in control until he left the pub. He had let the door slam behind him. Another roar of laughter slipped through the crack before the door closed shut.

“She broke up with you,” Sherlock said before looking up.

John scowled at him, hoping against hope that a stern look could stop the deduction.

“No, scratch that.” Sherlock studied him. “She was planning to break up with you, but you found out beforehand. In some embarrassing way.”

“Yes. Fine. She broke up with me. I don’t want to talk about it.”

To John’s surprise, Sherlock shut his mouth and looked at him with something that almost looked like kindness. “There’s Christmas cake in the kitchen.”

A fine thread had been holding John’s temper back since he left the pub, and now he could feel it breaking in his chest. It felt good, in a way. Cathartic. “You have been exploiting Mrs Hudson’s kindness again, haven’t you?”

Sherlock looked as surprised as if John had struck him.

“You’ve manipulated her into baking for us, and you didn’t even offer her a cup of tea in thanks. See, I can make deductions too.”

Sherlock pressed his mouth into a thin line.

“Did you even eat lunch today? Or have you been letting her feed you sweets instead?”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. “I see you haven’t had your dinner yet. You get grumpy when you don’t eat.”

John could feel his heartbeat wooshing in his head, compressing his skull and making his ears ring. “Don’t change the subject! You need to eat!”

He walked out into the kitchen, where a picture perfect Christmas cake was placed at the centre of the table. The icing was flawless, white and smooth. No frilly decorations had been placed on top, just a dark brown silk ribbon tied around the base. Mrs Hudson must have bought a new holiday food magazine. 

The Christmas cake was untouched, which made the anger claw in John’s chest again. “You haven’t even tasted the cake!” he roared. 

It came over him, that he couldn’t stand another night sitting in his chair, watching Sherlock read or think or play without stopping for food or drink, worrying about when the man had eaten last, watching the the angles of his cheekbones grow sharper. Hands shaking, John snatched the kitchen drawer open and pulled out a knife. He cut a wedge of the moist, dark, sticky cake, grabbed it and walked back out into the living room. “Here. Eat.” 

A strange look came over Sherlock’s face and with the tiniest movement, he licked his mouth, just a millimetre of tongue darting out and then disappearing again.

John walked over to Sherlock’s chair and did his best to loom over him. How did the man manage to be so tall even when sitting down? He thrust the cake towards Sherlock’s face. “Eat the cake.” The icing was starting to crumble under his fingers and small pieces of sugar and marzipan fell into Sherlock’s lap, dotting his blue silk dressing gown like white snow flakes.

Sherlock stared at him and his pale eyes seemed to grow darker and fiercer by the second. When John thought he couldn’t take the tension any longer, Sherlock said slowly “Alright.” And just as slowly, he opened his mouth.

A moment later, John realised that Sherlock hadn’t leaned forward. He was just sitting there, stubbornly waiting for John to feed him. John’s pulse went up again. Fine. He’d feed him. But as he moved the cake towards Sherlock’s mouth, a strange jitter of nerves came over him. What were they doing?

Sherlock closed his plush lips around the edge of the cake and took a delicate bite. His eyes still locked with John’s, he chewed and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. Then, he opened his mouth for another bite.

A puff of warm breath brushed over John’s hand, tickling the small hairs on his fingers. Somehow, the tingle travelled all the way up to John’s neck and down his spine. He felt shaky, like his legs were unsteady and his head light. Maybe he did need his dinner.

“Now you.”

“I’m sorry?” John’s brain felt like concrete. What was Sherlock saying?

“Now you eat. Take a bite.” Sherlock’s face was neutral, but his voice had a tinge of both a challenge and a plea.

The cake smelled divine: sweet, dark, heady and with a sharp scent of citrus. John’s mouth watered and he bit down into the soft, moist crumbs. Belatedly, he realised that he had put his mouth right where Sherlock’s had just been. It seemed impossible that he should be able to taste Sherlock in the cake, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had.

Heady aroma filled John’s mouth and his eyes slid shut. The earthy taste notes of the dried fruit and the — was it rum? — balanced the sugary sweetness perfectly. John felt his knees sag as he swallowed. He really couldn’t be expected to remain fully upright with something so delicious in his mouth. 

He was just trying to open his eyes again when he realised that he was leaning his knees against the edge of Sherlock’s seat, boxing him in. John’s eyes flew open and he was about to right himself, when he felt Sherlock’s fingers curl against the back of his knee, pulling him in closer. Sherlock was staring at John’s mouth, seemingly unaware of what his fingers were doing.

“More,” Sherlock said, his voice gruff.

John’s fingers seemed to have a will of their own as well, because John watched with fascination as they pulled off a piece of dark brown cake, carefully pinching it to avoid dropping the icing. His fingers brought the piece to Sherlock’s mouth. For a moment he could feel the smooth, slick inside of Sherlock’s lips on the tips of his fingers as he closed his mouth around the cake. 

Flailing for something to say, something to make his whirlpool of a brain catch up with what his body was doing, John looked down at the cake and said stupidly “It’s a very good cake.”

“Thank you.” Sherlock pushed his chin down and looked up at John through the fringe of his curls.

“You made it?” John’s thoughts were once more racing to keep up.

“Yes.” Sherlock lifted his chin, staring at John’s mouth again.

“Why?” Another stupid question, but what could he do.

Sherlock’s eyelids slid half shut. “Because I wanted something of mine in your mouth.”

As John’s mouth fell, he saw Sherlock’s eyes fly open in horror. Then his beautiful face started shutting all emotion out. It was unbearable.

John dropped the cake on the side table and cupped Sherlock’s face as quickly as he could, before the man retreated irretrievably. “Thank you.” He looked into Sherlock’s eyes, searching for a yes. 

The fear disappeared from Sherlock’s face and a tiny gasp puffed over his lips. Then everything happened at once. John pulled Sherlock’s face towards him and leaned forward. Sherlock surged up and grabbed the back of John’s legs, pulling him up into his lap. 

And then, finally, they kissed. 

John was still able taste the cake on Sherlock’s lips, when Sherlock suddenly pulled back and drew a deep, shuddering breath. They couldn’t have been kissing for very long. Had Sherlock changed his mind already? John’s stomach swooped at the thought, but when Sherlock lunged at him again, the penny dropped and John started giggling into Sherlock’s mouth. “Did you forget to breathe?”

Sherlock frowned and hid his face in the crook of John’s neck. “Did not.”

“Yes you did.” John dragged his fingertips up into Sherlock’s hair, scraping his scalp. 

Sherlock shuddered and gasped hotly against John’s skin. “I’m glad you came home.”

“So am I.” John slid his arms down to embrace Sherlock, hard. “So. Am. I.”

Sherlock leaned back with a glint in his eye. “So you don’t want to give Sandra another go?” His tone was teasing, but his mouth looked vulnerable as he spoke.

John grinned back at him. “It’s Susy. And no. I can’t even remember what she looks like." He pushed his fingers back into Sherlock's hair. "But I might send her a fruit cake for Christmas.”

Sherlock frowned in confusion. John leaned forward and kissed his furrowed brow away.


End file.
